


Blue.

by clairvoie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (probably but who knows), Angst, Imagery, Life Together, M/M, Murder Husbands, Poetry, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Will's POV, love and all the rest of it, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 17:41:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11972364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairvoie/pseuds/clairvoie
Summary: "...Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.""Saying Your Names" by Richard Siken





	Blue.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to keep editing this one, but if I do, I'll never stop. So, here you go.

dill from the garden, 

smelt it on your hands when you came inside.

 

body moving a bit too rough, and a violent push into the picture frame

broke the mirror with my whiskey glass. 

how inconvenient to be partial to these whims.

 

silver hair dancing on his crown

bandages on palms, and knuckles wrapped in white

the wind pushing the smell of lavender through the kitchen window, 

tendons painting fingers through my hair. 

 

soft spoken.

 

back muscles rolling, hands curling over mine like petals in the garden

 

the river running red, roots snagging the bottoms of our feet, seaweed holding tight, 

with blood swimming down the waterway. it's always like this,  you know.

 

the paper burns upwards from the edges

and how the bed frame radiates with the absence of this heat

 

the war paint on my lips 

the red on my cheek, the red in your mouth

my fingers drumming little beats on the side of the car.

 

like a painting, 

chiaroscuro in the bedroom 

always making love with the lights off

and you know he’s got tears in those eyes

fingers bound to the sheets like he’s begging for it. 

 

the way he looks at me, 

the tilt of his head

shine of his neck, the heat of his gaze… _could drown in a man like that_ , 

you could. 

 

bloodied fingers in my curls, holding me upright

and a stream, rushing. a stream that sings of love, screams it into the night. 

something screaming out our names in the yard. it was probably me, 

screaming wildly about greed and desire and writing this violence into the dirt. 

_ sorry, for digging up the garden, for making everything so ugly so often.  _

 

like the wrong words said aloud in the daylight, nowhere to run off to. the noise dancing madly through the air. 

I can hear you laughing from behind that curtain, you know. 

that blue curtain,

the yellow darkness of the night.

 

picking thorns from your thumbs in the bathroom glow

_love in the air_ , however the saying goes. 


End file.
